Fascinating People and How to Befriend Them
by smurfette81013
Summary: Upon arriving in New York, Claire Evans and Newt Scamander find themselves in a bit of trouble when some of the strange animals hidden in Mr. Scamander's case escape. Claire must not only help Newt find the creatures, but she must work with two American witches and a Muggle man, prompting her to begin writing a field guide: Fascinating People and How to Befriend Them.
1. Hunting a Niffler

Disclaimer: I'm not J.K. Rowling and I don't work in the film or publishing industries. Therefore, I do not own Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. I'm just playing around in J.K. Rowling's sandbox.

 **Chapter 1: Hunting a Niffler**

The sun glinted off of the water as the steamer tore through the waves of the Atlantic Ocean, heading towards New York. It was the fourth day of a two-week journey from Dublin, Ireland and the people aboard the ship were already tired of the rocking motion and cramped living space. The businessmen were constantly spreading their paperwork over every available surface, families with screaming children terrorized the deck and tourists happily poured over their maps and documented every aspect of their day in journals and sketchbooks.

One of the few people who didn't fall into one of the categories was Claire Evans. While her parents and much younger brother moved south towards London to advance her father's career, the young woman had decided to part ways and head to America – Land of the Free and Home of the Brave. Growing up in Dublin, she had always been fascinated by all sorts of different plants and animals, but she had not been able to pursue her passion in zoology as it wasn't proper, nor could she afford the formal education required to properly pursue her passions. All her Earthly possessions fit into her small suitcase, and that suited Claire just fine. After all, her most valued possessions were pictures of her parents, one of her whole family, and one of her younger brother Henry. She had a few trinkets that she could sell if absolutely necessary, but those were kept in a small box in her suitcase, until that morning.

Claire was completely convinced that there was a thief on the ship. She had left her suitcase open, turned her back for less than a minute while she was dressing and the trinkets had been stolen. There was no trace of her door being opened or even of someone being in the same room. All she could find was a loose air vent cover and some sort of paw print in the dust. At first Claire had thought that someone had trained a pet to go after things that sparkled, but the prints were unlike any sort she had ever encountered.

She had asked around on the ship to see if any of the other passengers had encountered the animal responsible for the disappearances, but everyone looked at her as though she had lost her mind. It was a look that Claire was very familiar with, but the fact that complete strangers were treating her with such disdain was off-putting to say the least. The only person that her fellow passengers seemed to dislike as much as – if not more than – Claire was a British man with caramel-coloured hair, light blue eyes, pale skin and a tall, thin build. The man always seemed distracted and carried his suitcase with him wherever on the ship he went. She had never had the chance to talk to the man, but he was her last hope and potential ally in catching the little creature.

It was at supper that night on the main deck that she finally managed to speak with him. For such a distracted man he was remarkably well-aware of what was happening around him. She had tried to be quiet so that she would not startle him, but it seemed that she would not have to worry about such things again.

"Good evening," He said, looking at Claire with slight confusion. The man had seen this young woman around the ship, always speaking pleasantly with someone or keeping children occupied while their mothers got some much needed rest.

"Gran' evenin', sir." She said with a large smile. Claire pulled out her sketchbook and flipped through the pages until the she found the one she needed. "Oi'm sorry ter 'assle yer, but 'av yer seen any wee creatures aboard de ship, wi' paw prints loike dis?"

The man just stared at her blankly for a moment, not really understanding her through her thick accent. He managed to understand enough to get the general idea though, so he looked down at the sketchbook to look at the prints. Within two seconds, the blood had rushed out of his face and the glint in his blue eyes went from curiosity and confusion to dread.

"I haven't seen the creature recently, no. I've been trying to find him all day. I'm terribly sorry if he took something of yours, Miss." He said, examining the sketches. They were very good – much better than the sketches he had tried to make for his field guide.

"'Tis not an issue, as long as oi git me things back. Waat sort av creature is it anyways?" Clair asked as he handed the book back.

"A Niffler. They have long noses that are particularly sensitive when it comes to valuables." The man explained as the latch on his case popped open. He sighed through his nose before refastening it.

"Ah've never 'eard av such a creature. Wha ye fend it?" Claire asked as she looked to the latched of the case with curiosity.

"Oh, well Nifflers are native to Britain and are very kind and gentle creatures. Greedy little buggers though." The man said.

"Well, oi wud be 'appy ter 'elp yer root 'im. Wha wud yer Niffl'r be most likely ter 'ide?" She asked, rolling up the sleeves of her dress and sweater, exposing her arms. They were covered in scars from various burns, bite marks and cuts that she had received during her wild childhood, and equally wild adult life.

"He would most likely be in the first class cabins, since they would have the most valuables. But he could also be in the lower decks of the ship, since they like to be burrowed in the ground." The man explained.

"Ah've already asked ev'ryone on de ship if they 'av seen de wee beastie an' they 'enny, so oi doubt 'tis in de cabins."

"Alright then, down to the lower decks we go. I'm Newt Scamander, by the way." He said, holding his hand out to shake. Claire gripped the hand firmly and grinned at the strange man.

"Oi'm Claire Evans. 'Tis nice ter meet yer, Mister Scamander" She said before they headed off towards the staircase, completely forgetting about supper, and the fact that the area was restricted.

"We should probably split up. We can cover more ground that way." Mr. Scamander suggested to Claire as they reached the lowest point in the ship.

"Sounds gran' ter me. Waat does de wee beastie luk loike?"

"A cross between a platypus and a mole," Mr. Scamander said absently, already taking off to look for his Niffler. Claire just rolled her eyes before heading in the opposite direction.

It took about twenty minutes of crawling around in the dust, dirt and animal droppings for Claire and Mr. Scamander to determine that the Niffler was not going to be found on that particular level of the steamer. Claire headed back to the ladder, ducking under beams and pipes, avoiding puddles of hot water and small jets of steam as she went. She attempted to brush some of the filth off of herself, but it was no use.

Mr. Scamander appeared at the base of the ladder not a minute later, looking perfectly clean and composed.

"'Oweya so clean?" Claire asked as she saw the state of the man's clothing.

"How are you so dirty?" Mr. Scamander joked back with a happy smile.

"Oi wus lookin' fer dat damn beast av yers. It seems oi wus lookin' 'arder than yer were." Claire said as she continued to brush herself off.

"I promise you, I was looking just as hard as you were. Perhaps even harder,"

"Sure yer were," Claire grumbled as they made their way up the ladder and started the process over again.

Mr. Scamander had realized his mistake in cleaning himself off when Claire had been so confused about how he had done so. He had thought that perhaps they had similar backgrounds, but it would appear that he was mistaken. He would have to remember to Obliviate her once the Niffler was found. It was a shame – Mr. Scamander quite enjoyed her company, but Muggles weren't supposed to know about creatures such as Nifflers.

Claire crawled through the dust and spider webs, even collecting a few of the little arachnids, but she continued to search for the strange platypus-mole. It was now curiosity and her love of animals that was driving her to search for the Niffler, not her desire to get her trinkets back.

She was just about to head back towards the small staircase that led up to a higher deck when she caught a glimpse of something glittery. She kneeled down, no longer caring about the state of her dress, and looked at the trinket closely. It wasn't one of hers, but it definitely fit the description of things a Niffler would try to take. She looked at the dust around the trinket and saw that it had all been agitated, and about three feet away was a small paw print.

"'Ere beastie, oi 'ill not 'urt yer. If yer cum oyt yer can 'av yer trinket back." Claire said, hoping that the creature would listen to the soothing tone of her voice. From under one of the wooden crates and skids came the tip of a long, flat nose.

"Cum 'ere Mr. Niffler, oi 'av somethin' shiny for yer." She said, holding out the little trinket – which appeared to be a decoration from a woman's shoe – keeping a tight hold on it.

The nose sniffed a bit, and the rest of the creature's little head poked put from under the crate. It was a small creature, and would likely fit in her hands. It was hard to believe that such a small and admittedly adorable creature could cause so much trouble.

"That's it wee wan, cum on oyt." She said sweetly, rubbing her fingers together. She used the same trick to try to get the family cat out from under the bed when her little brother had terrorized the little thing.

Slowly, the rest of the Niffler's little body squeezed out from under the crate and towards Claire.

"That's a gran' Niffl'r. Such a gran' wee beast." Claire said as she picked up the squirming creature.

"Nigh, let's git yer back ter yer daddy." She said as she handed the Niffler the shiny shoe piece. The excitement on the little platypus-mole's face lit up the entire deck of the ship. The Niffler squirmed out of her hands and crawled up her arm to rest on her shoulder, nuzzling against her neck and hiding in the loose blonde curls that had fallen loose from the low bun that usually confined Claire's hair.

"Ain't yer jist de sweetest wee beastie," She murmured, petting the creature on the head before heading back to the staff staircase – which Mr. Scamander had somehow gotten access to.

Claire sat on the steps of the staircase for about ten minutes while she waited for Mr. Scamander to make his appearance. She played games with the Niffler, like fetch. The Niffler was very happy to fetch the little trinkets she threw for it, and occasionally he held still long enough for her to sketch him.

"Mr. Scamander, yer wee beastie is a sweetheart." Claire said when the man finally made his way over, covered in almost as much dust as she was.

"How on Earth did you track him down?" Mr. Scamander asked, looking at Claire with undisguised awe.

"It wasn't murder, once oi found' a trinket ter bribe 'him wi'." Claire said, trying to pass the little Niffler back to his owner.

"I've never thought to do that," Mr. Scamander said, pulling out his field guide to jot something down. "Do you mind if I keep the sketch of the Niffler's paw print, for my field guide?" He asked suddenly.

"Yer want ter keep me drawing? Why? It isn't really dat gran'." She said, opening her sketchbook to the Niffler's prints and tearing the page out.

"It's far more realistic and clear than anything I could hope to make." Mr. Scamander admitted, looking at the details of the sketch once again.

"Yer can keep dis wan too, as long as oi can borrow yer beastie ter draw another." Claire said as she handed over her sketchbook, flipping to the page with the full drawing of the Niffler.

"Really? This is wonderful," Mr. Scamander said, looking closely at the line-work of her drawing.

"'Tis not pure grand, oi'm better at drawin' de things oi imagine, or things oi've studied." Claire said, tucking a strand of her hair back behind her ear.

"Do you mind if I –" Mr. Scamander asked as he slipped his finger under the previous page, getting ready to flip through the book.

"Go roi ahead." Claire said, taking the Niffler back as Mr. Scamander flipped through her sketchpad. It was a small leather-bound book, much like his field guide, and the Brit couldn't help but be impressed with the drawings. The lines were clean and deliberate, and it was obvious that Claire Evans knew exactly what she was doing. She essentially had a non-magical zoology book, as each picture was accompanied by the Latin genus and species, the common name and a quick description of the animal's habitat and traits.

"This is absolutely incredible," Mr. Scamander said, mostly to himself as he flipped through the pages.

"Please, oi nu 'tis not al' dat grand." Clair said as she scratched the Niffler under its' long nose.

"Miss Evans, this is nothing to scoff at, you have a real talent in art and a clear understanding of zoology. I would know, as I'm a magizoologist." Mr. Scamander said, trailing off at the end, not really realizing that he had said 'magizoologist' rather than 'zoologist'.

"Magizoologist? Is dat even a rayle ward?" Claire asked, wondering just how crazy the man was. She knew he was eccentric, but this was ridiculous.

"Of course it's a real word. Just as the Niffler is a real animal." Mr. Scamander said, looking at Claire as though she was the one who was crazy.

"An' waat exactly is a magizoologist. A zoologist dat studies magical creatures?" Claire asked with a huff.

"Exactly, now you're getting it."

"Nigh see 'ere, Mr. Scamander. If yer tink yer can make a eejit oyt av me ye're mistaken." Claire said as her accent thickened in anger. Mr. Scamander just stared at her blankly, not really understanding a word she had just said, other than his name. However, he could tell from her voice and posture that she was far from pleased.

"I think there's been a mistake. I didn't mean to insult you. I'm terribly sorry if I have." Mr. Scamander said sincerely.

"Are ye at laest gonna explain waat yer mean by magical creatures?" Claire asked.

"I suppose it's for the best that I do. Follow me." Mr. Scamander said, taking off up the stairs, not looking back to ensure that Claire was following him. Claire sighed as she began to climb the stairs, trying to catch up with the long-legged man.

"Mr. Scamander, wha ye takin' me?" Claire asked as she finally caught up to the man, a deck below the passengers' 2nd class cabins.

"To my suitcase. Everything I need to explain is there." Mr. Scamander explained.

"Why, do yer 'av more journals in it?" Claire asked as they entered his cabin. Mr. Scamander kept the door open, as was proper.

"I probably do somewhere, but that isn't what I want to show you." Mr. Scamander said, opening his suitcase on his bed. From where Claire was standing, it seemed empty. That was when Mr. Scamander got up onto his bed, stood up and stepped in. It was like he was going down a ladder, slowly descending into the suitcase. Claire blinked several times to try and clear her vision, but not even rubbing her eyes and pinching herself brought her back out of what she had begun to think was just a dream. She rushed over to the suitcase to peer inside, seeing nothing but a small light. She picked up the case and – keeping it level – looked at the bottom as well as the sides. She knocked on it several times to ensure that it wasn't a false bottom and repeated her actions with the sides, but there was nothing wrong with the case itself. She placed the suitcase on the floor and began to check the bed, patting it down and removing the covers, before remaking the bed.

Determined to figure out what the trick was, Claire grabbed an umbrella and stuck it in the suitcase, not reaching the bottom. She stuck her arm in along with the umbrella, roughly doubling the length but still couldn't reach the bottom of the case. She pulled her arm and umbrella out of the case, only for Mr. Scamander's hand to pop out of the case and motion her closer. She leaned over the case and – making what she considered to be an absolutely idiotic decision – stuck her head in the case.

The interior of the case was incredible! It was as though she had stuck her head through some sort of portal. The inside of the case looked like a shed and was stocked with various bags of food, a cutting block, cured and fresh meat as well as a research table. The top of the case had a ladder leading up, so she had been correct when she had thought that Mr. Scamander looked as if he was descending a staircase or ladder.

"Well, Miss Evans, no need to just stick your head in. Come on down." Mr. Scamander said as he began to cut up some of the fresh meat. Claire pulled her head back out of the suitcase and stepped in, checking to make sure her foot didn't slip off of the first peg as she lowered herself down into the suitcase.

"Dis is it, ah've lost me mind." She mumbled as she reached the bottom of the ladder, looking up to see a small shining light from the entrance to the suitcase.

"I promise all of this is quite real." Mr. Scamander said as he helped her sit down on a barrel of what had been labeled 'beetle eyes'.

"Do yer 'av any idea 'oy many scientific laws yer suitcase is breakin' roi nigh?" Claire asked as she tried to take deep breaths.

"I've never studied Muggle law or science." Mr. Scamander muttered. Claire glanced at the oblivious man out of the corner of her eye.

"Waat de 'ell is a Muggle?" Claire asked, choosing to keep the conversation flowing. Mr. Scamander had a remarkably soothing voice. It probably had something to do with the soft tenor of his voice and his refined accent. It was much nicer to listen to than her heavy Irish accent.

"A Muggle is a human with no magic, or no access to magic."

"An' oi suppose yer want me ter believe dat magic is real?" Claire asked, undoing her hair and letting it fall around her shoulders before flipping her head upside down and redoing the bun at the top of her head. It was a normal task that soothed her. The fingers running through the golden curls, caressing her scalp had always helped ease her mind.

"I want you to believe whatever you think is the truth. But reserve your judgement until I've shown you around some more." Mr. Scamander said to her, putting the freshly cut meat in a bucket and taking her hand. It was all bloody, but Claire couldn't care less.

"Oi tink someone managed ter drug me while we were searchin' for yer Niffl'r. 'Allucination is de only explanation." Claire said as he opened the shed door to expose the rest of the suitcase's interior. There were canvas paintings that divided the case into geographical sections. There was a forest, a desert, a recreation of the African savannah and a multitude of other small sections. The canvases were poorly painted, but that wasn't what held Claire's attention. It was the variety of beasts that could only be described as magical that truly captivated her.

In the African Savannah, a beast that looked like rhinoceros with a lowing tumor-like lump on its head was happily basking in the artificial sunlight. In the section that looked like the Arizona desert was an eagle-dragon hybrid of some sort. Mr. Scamander was happily throwing it the large chunks of butchered meat in his bucket. Claire wandered around the suitcase, pinching herself on the back of the hand every time she saw something unbelievable. Therefore, her hands were covered with purple nail marks and the beginnings of bruises.

"Mr. Scamander, 'oy do oi nu oi'm noy dreamin'?" Claire asked as she forced herself away from the strange, llama-like creatures with massive round eyes.

"I'm sorry; I can't understand you with your accent." Mr. Scamander said honestly. Claire understood perfectly; after all, she had been raised in one of the poorest parts of Dublin. She was self-educated, but she hadn't been raised around people with posh, clear accents.

"'Ow do oi nu oi'm not dreaming?" She tried again, mimicking the English speech patterns that the other passengers had.

"I think something like this would be a little far-fetched, even for the most creative of novelists and artists." Mr. Scamander said as he picked up a bucket of food pellets.

"Oi tink yer might be roi in dat assumption Mr. Scamander." Claire said as she followed Mr. Scamander over to the strange alpaca-like animals with wide eyes the size of tennis balls. She absently fed the animals the little floating pellets as she tried to take in what was happening around her.

"They're called Mooncalves, you know. They only come out in the light of a full moon, and their dung will make magical plants grow fast and strong if collected harvested before the sun rises."

"'Oy in de warrld ye figure dat out?" Claire asked as she scratched one of the Mooncalves behind the ears.

"An accident, I assure you." Mr. Scamander said with a goofy looking grin as he rubbed the underside of a Mooncalf's jaw.

"Yer nu, Mooncalf is a name fer a calf wi' birth defects born durin' a full moon." Claire said as she tossed the last of the food pellets.

"Yes actually, that's why they're called Mooncalves." Mr. Scamander said, looking at Claire with a new attitude. Perhaps the woman would be willing to work with him on his field guide, as an artist and researcher.

"Not a pure nice name fer such gran' wee beasties," Claire said as she was lead back towards the forest part of the suitcase.

"I agree, but unfortunately I can't rename them. They've been called Mooncalves for centuries." Mr. Scamander explained as he went over to a particular tree. It was covered in little insects that looked like they were made of twigs and leaves.

"These are Bowtruckles, native to England, Germany and certain parts of Scandinavia. They act as tree guardians for their home trees. They are very peaceful and shy, unless their home tree is threatened." Mr. Scamander explained as he held out his arm to the stick creatures. One of the Bowtruckles happily climbed onto his arm, while the others shied away, moving closer to the trunk of their tree.

"This is Pickett," Newt said as he tickled the Bowtruckle's torso before moving his arm closer to Claire's.

"Oi tart yer said dey're shy, Mr. Scamander." Claire said as Pickett climbed over to her arm.

"Normally they are, but Pickett is a bit of an exception. And please, call me Newt." The magizoologist said with a crooked smile.


	2. Break-in at the Bank

**Chapter 2: Break-in at the Bank**

Ten days later, the large passenger ship was gliding past the Statue of Liberty. The passengers were leaning over the rails, looking at the great city in excitement. Claire and Newt were sitting on a bench, not paying any attention to the sights surrounding the ship. Claire was watching Newt out of the corner of her eye, not entirely certain that she hadn't gone insane. Newt was dressed in his weather-beaten blue overcoat, a white dress shirt, a light brown vest and dark brown trousers. He looked relatively calm, until the latch on his case flicked open on its own from between them. Newt placed the case on his lap, bending over it and holding the latch.

"Dougal – settle down now, please. It won't be long." He whispered before fastening the latch once again.

Newt was correct in his assumption that it wouldn't be long until they were off the ship. Within half an hour, Newt and Claire were making their way down the gangplank. Claire stood behind Newt as they waited in line in front of a long row of desks in the shipyard manned by serious looking American officers. Soon, Newt was called to one of the desks.

The official was clearly unimpressed by how tattered Newt's passport was, but said nothing about it.

"British huh?" The official asked.

"Yes." Newt said distractedly.

"First trip to New York?"

"Yes." Newt said as he looked back at Claire nervously. Her sketchbooks had been merged with his field guide, and they had been placed in her suitcase. If her case was checked, it would be difficult to explain.

"Anything edible in there?" The official said, gesturing towards Newt's case, which had been placed on the desk.

Newt unconsciously put a hand over his breast pocket, where Pickett was hiding. "No."

"Livestock?"

The latch on Newt's suitcase popped oven, gathering both their attention, as well as Claire's from where she was still waiting in line. Newt hastily closed it, but not before the officer's suspicion was aroused.

"Let me take a look," The man said. Newt still had his hand on the latch, and he discretely flicked a brass dial to _Muggle worthy_.

The customs agent spun the case around on the desk and opened the latches, lifting the lid to reveal pajamas, maps and empty journals, a magnifying glass, a spare set of clothes and a Hufflepuff scarf. Satisfied with what he saw, the official closed the case and refastened the latches.

"Welcome to New York."

"Thank you." Newt said, moving along and waiting on a bench well within sight of the inspection desks.

Claire walked towards the desk next to Newt's, standing face to face with a very unnerving man. He was clearly taking in her appearance, staring at her white dress, light yellow overcoat and light yellow kitten heels. She stared defiantly at him as she handed over her passport.

"Irish huh?" He asked, his voice smooth.

"Aye, sir."

"First time in New York, Miss?"

"Aye, sir." Claire repeated.

"Are you travelling with anyone?" The agent asked, sending what he thought was a charming smile in her direction.

"Aye, de British man in de blue coat." She said, pointing over to where Newt was examining the latches on his suitcase.

"Really, a pretty thing like you travelling with a man like that?" He asked, looking over to Newt.

"Aye, sir." Claire said with a triumphant smirk. The examination was quickly becoming a game to both the officer and Claire.

"How long are you staying?" The officer asked as he motioned for Claire to place her suitcase on the examination desk.

"A week, sir." Claire said as she put her case down. The officer flicked the latches and opened the lid, revealing a dress, pajamas, some photographs, toiletries, Newt's journals and one of his Hufflepuff scarves.

"You sure you've got enough for a week, miss?" He asked, wondering if she had a second bag going through with the Brit she claimed to be arriving with.

"Oi'm sure Oi'll be grand." Claire said. "Besides, Newt 'as sum av me things."

"What sort of things?" The agent asked, looking under some of her clothing.

"Me drawers." Claire said. With that, the man snapped her suitcase shut and practically shoved her things back in her direction.

"You have a nice day, miss."

"Oi'm sure oi 'ill." Claire said as she picked up her case and walked confidently towards her companion.

"What took you so long?" Newt asked, rising to his feet with his suitcase in his hand.

"De officer wus unnecessarily thorough in 'is inspection," Claire said, walking beside the magizoologist.

Claire continued to study Newt as they made their way through the streets of New York. He was clutching a few papers in one hand and his suitcase in the other, walking in a peculiar way that only those who worked with animals could.

Every few minutes, Newt would look over his shoulder to ensure that Claire was still with him, but not often enough that he would ever be able to find her if they were to be separated.

After only a mile or so of walking, Newt got distracted by the noise of shouting, and approached a group of people standing on the steps of the city bank. They were all listening to a Midwestern-looking woman in a puritan dress, standing under a banner that declared the group to be the New Salem Philanthropic Society. Claire nearly flinched at the sight of the emblem on the banner: hands proudly clasping a broken wand surrounded by bright yellow and red flames. She hurried after Newt, who clearly hadn't paid the banner any attention.

" . . . This great city sparkles with the jewels of man's invention! Movie theatres, automobiles, the wireless, electric lights – all dazzle and bewitch us!" The leader proclaimed to the masses. Random people on the street had stopped to see what she was talking about, so she had quite a large group of people listening to her curiously, Newt included.

Newt was studying the woman as he would observe a foreign species: no judgement, simply interest. Claire accidentally bumped a woman with a hat low on her head, upturned collar and a hotdog, which had spread mustard on her upper lip.

"Ah, sorry miss." She said distractedly as she sought out Newt's blue overcoat in the crowd.

"But where there is light there is shadow, friend. Something is stalking our city, wreaking destruction and then disappearing without a trace . . ." The woman continued. Claire looked back at the woman she walked into, her timing seemingly perfect as she saw a short, bulky man wearing an ill-fitting brown suit carrying a battered brown leather case also bump into her. He walked right past her before stumbling on Newt's case a few feet ahead.

"I'm so sorry – my case." Newt said as he helped the man back to his feet.

"No harm done," The man said, brushing some dirt off his suit and pushing past the speaker. Unfortunately, all the motion caught the speaker's attention.

"You friend! What drew you to our meeting today?" She asked Newt. The man looked around, wondering if she was speaking to him or someone near him.

"Oh . . . I was just passing . . ." Newt said, words stumbling out of his mouth.

"Are you a seeker? A seeker after truth?"

"I'm more of a chaser really." Newt said, not noticing as a small pair of paws made themselves visible in the open crack of his suitcase. A man flipped a coin into a beggar's hat, and the paws pulled at the lid with vigor.

"Hear my words and heed my warning . . . witches are among us!" The strange woman declared. "We have to fight together for the sake of our children – for the sake of tomorrow! What do you say to that, friend?"

Just as Newt was about to answer, Claire caught sight of the familiar black fur of a Niffler entering the bank. She quickly ran forwards and grabbed Newt's arm, hooking hers through his and grabbing his case.

"Oi tink yer absolutely aff yer nut. Nigh if yer cud stop distractin' me 'usban' oi wud appreciate it. We 'av things ter do in de bank." Claire said, dragging Newt up the stairs, careful to hide their left hands from sight.

"What in the world was that?" Newt asked once they were safely out of the speaker's sight.

"De Niffl'r got oyt av yer case. 'E jist emptied a beggar's 'at an' snuck into de bank." She said, not seeing the suspicious look that Mustard-lips was sending her.

Newt and Claire skidded to a halt in the impressive atrium of the bank. In the center of the bank was a golden counter with dozens of smartly dressed clerks serving the similarly dressed clients. Newt and Claire looked very out of place, although Newt's demeanor pushed him further out of place than Claire.

One of the bank employees eyed the pair suspiciously.

"Can I help you, sir?" He asked, his face pinched up as though smelling something foul.

"No, I was just . . . just waiting." Newt said, motioning towards a bench and sitting down next to the brown-suited man that had tripped over his case. Claire took a seat next to Newt, all three of them with their cases on their laps.

"Hi, what brings you here?" The man asked nervously. Newt and Claire were both distractedly looking for the Niffler, but Claire nudged Newt in the ribs, prompting him to answer.

"Same as you . . ."

"You're here to get a loan to open up a bakery?" The man asked, his brows knitted together.

"Aye," Claire answered when it became clear that Newt was too preoccupied to do so.

"What are the odds of that? Well, may the best man win, I guess." The man said kindly. At that moment, Newt spotted the Niffler happily stealing coins from someone's bag. The man held out his hand to shake, but Newt had taken off. Claire shook his hand quickly.

"Excuse me," She said, taking off after Newt. In her place on the bench was a large silver egg.

"Hey miss . . . hey miss!" The man called out, but neither of the strange foreigners heard him, as they were both too engaged in hunting the Niffler. The man picked up the egg just as the door into the bank manager's office opened.

"Hey lady!" He tried again. A secretary poked her head out of the door and looked over to the only man on the waiting bench.

"Mr. Kowalski, Mr. Bingley will see you now." She said. Mr. Kowalski pocketed the egg and headed into the office.

Newt finally spotted the Niffler as the secretary closed the door behind Mr. Kowalski. Claire pretended to be hopelessly lost in order to distract a woman while Newt dove for the Niffler, which was removing a glittering decoration from the woman's shoe. The Niffler got away from Newt's grasp and jumped between cases and bags, stuffing more treasure into its pouch. While Newt continued to look around for the Niffler, Claire ended up waiting in line for a teller. She craned her neck, peering into the bag in front of her while Mustard-lips watched from behind a pillar.

When Newt spotted the Niffler again, it was sitting under a bench, looking fat and smug. Newt slowly made his way over to the creature, seeing the greedy creature try to grab the shiny tag on a little dog's collar. Scared off by both the dog and Newt, the Niffler took off scuttling over the golden back counter screens and out of both Newt and Claire's reach. Claire had finally reached the front of the line, just in time to see the Niffler sitting on a trolley surrounded by money bags being pushed down a corridor. Newt grabbed Claire's arm with the intent to Disapparate past the security guards and closer to the Niffler when Mr. Kowalski appeared, the silver egg in his hand vibrating.

"Hey, Miss Irish lady! I think your egg is hatching." He yelled. Newt's head whipped back and forth between the muggle and the elevator that had just closed its' doors, containing the Niffler and trolley. He pointed his wand at Mr. Kowalski, magically pulling the man and the egg across the bank's atrium towards the travellers. In a split second, Newt disapparated with both muggles, leaving Mustard-lips stunned behind her pillar.

Newt, Claire and Mr. Kowalski apparated into a narrow stairwell leading to the bank's vaults, suddenly past the tellers and security guards. Claire gently took the egg back from Mr. Kowalski as it hatched, revealing a small, snake-like bird – an Occamy. Newt's face filled with wonder as he looked to the faces of his companions. Claire's face matched his as she held the Occamy close, although Mr. Kowalski's face displayed only shock. Slowly, Claire carried the baby Occamy down the stairs, Newt trailing along behind her.

"Excuse me . . ." Jacob said, looking very confused. He looked back up the stairs towards the bank's atrium. Seeing Mr. Bingley approaching, he ducked down the stairs and out of sight.

"I was – over there. I was – over there?" He mumbled to himself as he looked around for Newt and Claire. He found Newt crouched down, opening his case. Claire carefully placed the newly hatched Occamy inside, whispering to it tenderly.

"Hello?" Mr. Kowalski asked them. Neither looked up as Newt began talking to the creatures in his case.

"No. Everyone settle down – stay. Dougal, don't make me come down there . . ."

Jacob slowly approached the strange duo, seeing Pickett the Bowtruckle poke his head out of Newt's breast pocket.

"Don't make me cum down dare." Claire warned. She looked up and saw the Niffler squeezing into the central vault. She nudged Newt and pointed over to the Niffler just as the last of its little body squeezed through the locked door.

"Absolutely not!" Newt took out his wand and pointed it at the vault. " _Alohomora."_

The cogs and locks of the vault door began turning just as Mr. Bingley came around the corner. He looked to Mr. Kowalski in shock as the vault door cracked open.

"So you're gonna STEAL the money, huh?" The man demanded, his shock morphing into anger. He hit a button on the wall, which set off a blaring alarm. Newt almost lazily flicked his wand at the muggle banker.

" _Petrificus totalus!"_ The wizard said. Bingley suddenly stiffened and fell back flat on the ground. Mr. Kowalski couldn't take his eyes off of the banker's frozen form. Claire – who had seen the spell performed on an injured Grindylow – simply followed Newt into the bank vault. She was concerned about the alarm, but not nearly as concerned as she was about the Niffler being loose.

"Mr. Bingley!" Mr. Kowalski yelled as Newt and Claire opened the vault farther.

Even in his paralyzed state, Bingley was able to mumble Kowalski's name as Newt and Claire made their way into the vault. Inside, they found the Niffler lounging on a large pile of cash, surrounded by hundreds of open deposit boxes. The Niffler stared at Newt defiantly as he shoved another gold bar into his already overflowing pouch, until he saw the look on Claire's face. The creature looked guilty as she began to scold it.

"Really?" Newt asked the creature.

"Yer couldn't keep yer greedy paws ter yerself 'til we got ter de 'otel?" She asked the creature as Newt grabbed the Niffler tightly and turned it upside down, shaking it by its hind legs. A seemingly endless number of precious items fell out of the impossibly large pouch. Mr. Kowalski just looked around in disbelief, looking both terrified and queasy.

Newt had clearly forgotten that the muggle man was with them, as he could do nothing but grin at Claire as she tickled the Niffler in order to loosen more of the treasure. Claire stopped tickling the Niffler as she heard several sets of footsteps on the stairs. The alarm had gotten the attention of several armed guards.

"Oh no. . . no . . . Don't shoot!" Mr. Kowalski said, throwing his hands up in the air. Claire and Newt shared a glance, forming a plan in less than a second. Claire gathered their cases and the Niffler while Newt lunged over to Mr. Kowalski, grabbing hold of the man's arm. Claire then reached out to grasp Newt's outstretched hand and the three Disapparated just as the guards made their way around the corner.

The three ended up Apparating onto a side street. Security alarms were still blaring from outside the bank, and at the end of the street crowds of police officers were gathering. The woman with mustard on her upper lip ran out of the bank and looked down onto the side street, clearly seeing Newt wrestling the Niffler back into the case and Mr. Kowalski cowering by a wall.

"For the last time, you pilfering pest: paws off what doesn't belong to you!" Newt snapped as he finally got the Niffler into the case.

"Oi'm terribly sorry aboyt al' dis," Claire said to the terrified man.

"What the hell was that?" Mr. Kowalski asked.

"Nothing that need concern you. Now unfortunately you have seen far too much, so if you wouldn't mind – if you could just stand there – this will be over in a jiffy." Newt said, trying to find his wand and turning his back on Mr. Kowalski. The man saw his opportunity to escape, so he grabbed his case and swung it violently at Newt, who was knocked to the ground.

"Sorry!" Mr. Kowalski shouted as he ran for his life. Claire kneeled down and examined Newt's head for any injuries while Newt looks after Mr. Kowalski, who had merged with the crowd.

"Bugger!" Newt said, as he grabbed his case and brushed Claire's hand off of his head. Newt gathered himself quickly, picked up his case and held out one arm to Claire, who knew to grab on so that they could Disapparate from the bank. They walked towards the woman with mustard on her upper lip, attempting to appear nonchalant. As they passed her, the woman grabbed Newt's free elbow and Disapparated.

They Apparated into a cramped, bricked-up alleyway just across the street from the bank. Police sirens were still blaring in the background, and were beginning to give Claire a headache.

"Who _are_ you?" The woman asked, out of breath. Her American accent had the expected New York influence, which was very strong despite the fact that she was out of breath.

"I'm sorry?" Newt asked, trying to squirm out of her grasp so that he and Claire could get away.

"Who are you?" The woman demanded again, catching her breath slightly.

"Newt Scamander. And you are?" He asked, focusing on her dull yellow upper lip.

"What's that _thing_ in your case?" She asked, ignoring his question.

"That's my Niffler." Newt said, glancing over at Claire and making a nearly invisible gesture towards the mustard on the other woman's lip.

"Why in the name of Deliverance Dane did you let that thing loose?"

"I didn't mean to – he's incorrigible, you see, anything shiny and he's all over the place –" Newt tried to explain.

"You didn't mean to?" She asked in disbelief.

"No."

"You could not have chosen a worse time to let that creature loose. We're in the middle of a situation here! I'm taking you in."

"Wha ye takin' us?" Claire asked, inserting herself into the conversation, to try to relieve some of the pressure off of Newt. The man was clearly uncomfortable with the confrontation.

She produced her official ID card. Her identification picture was moving, and a very impressive American eagle symbol was displayed above the writing which proclaimed her to be Porpentina Goldstein.

"Magical Congress of the United States of America." Ms. Goldstein said, as if Newt and Claire couldn't read. Newt suddenly looked nervous.

"So, you work for MACUSA? What are you, some kind of investigator?"

Suddenly it was Ms. Goldstein's turn to look nervous. "Uh-huh."

"Oi canny take yer seriously wi' al' dat mustard on yer lip." Claire said suddenly. Ms. Goldstein wiped her upper lip self-consciously before stuffing her ID back in her pocket.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Ms. Goldstein asked Claire, as if noticing her for the first time.

"Claire Evans." She responded shortly.

"She's Muggle-born." Newt lied, looking uncomfortable. At that, Ms. Goldstein looked away from Claire and turned her attention back to Newt.

"Can you please tell me you took care of the No-Maj?" Ms. Goldstein asked.

"De waat?" Claire asked in confusion. She looked to Newt, but his confused look mirrored hers.

"The No-Maj! No magic – the non-wizard!" Ms. Goldstein explained to the two foreigners. Claire simply looked more confused. Newt had told her that she was a Muggle, not a No-Maj. Why could it not be like naming a creature, where there is only one real name recognised by everyone?

"Oh, sorry. We call them Muggles." Newt responded rather than answering Ms. Goldstein's question. Ms. Goldstein was obviously distressed at Newt's lack of a proper response.

"You wiped his memory, right? The No-Maj with the case?"

"Um . . ." Newt said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"That's a Section 3A Mr. Scamander, Miss Evans. I'm taking you in." Ms. Goldstein said, grabbing them both by their arms and Disapparating.


	3. MACUSA

**Before starting, I would like to say that I am compleyely aware that screenplays and books are copyrighted, but this is fanfiction and I firmly believe that I have changed the content enough to make it my own. All recognisable content belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

 **Chapter 3: MACUSA**

They Apparated to an alley about a block away from an ornately carved, incredibly tall skyscraper on the corner of a bustling street – the Woolworth Building.

Ms. Goldstein and the people she was 'escorting' hurried along the busy sidewalk, Ms. Goldstein practically dragging both Newt and Claire by their coat sleeves.

"Come on." Goldstein said, getting fed up.

"Er – sorry, but we have things to do, actually." Newt attempted weakly.

"Well, you'll have to rearrange them!" Ms. Goldstein snapped, forcefully guiding the foreigners through the traffic. "What are you doing in New York anyway?"

"I came to buy a birthday present." Newt said, hoping that it would be enough of an answer.

"Couldn't you have done that in London?" She asked as they made their way over to the front doors of the Woolworth building. Workers were entering and exiting through a revolving door, but Goldstein took them to a door besides the revolving one, which had stolen Claire's attention. The revolving door was much more interesting than Ms. Goldstein.

"No, there's only one breeder of Appaloosa Puffskeins in the world and he lives in New York, so no . . ." Newt explained, trying to get the woman to believe him. He was relatively convincing, and it could easily be tied to his love for creatures.

"I've got a Section 3A." Goldstein told the cloaked guard, who let them in immediately.

The interior of the Woolworth building was easily as impressive as the exterior, but they didn't get the chance to examine the architecture or the workers, because as soon as Ms. Goldstein led Newt and Claire through the door, the interior changed as though they had walked through a portal into the MACUSA headquarters.

As they walked through the door, Newt noticed a magical scanner, which the British ministry used to keep muggles out. He looked to Claire, terrified that she would be repelled and obliviated, but she simply continued walking as though the charm wasn't in place. He shook his head slightly and focused again on Ms. Goldstein, determined to find out why the detection charm didn't work on Claire as soon as they had sorted this mess out.

The group moved up a wide staircase as they entered the main lobby – a vast and impressive space with impossibly high vaulted ceilings. High up, a magical clock-like contraption with many cogs and dials emblazoned with the legend: _Magical Exposure Threat Level_ had its hand pointing to _Severe; unexplained activity_. Behind the 'clock' was an imposing portrait of a majestic looking witch by the name of Seraphina Picquery, the President of MACUSA.

Owls were circulating, witches and wizards were hard at work, bustling around from department to department and back again, making deliveries or attending meetings. Ms. Goldstein guided Newt and Claire – who were both very impressed – towards the elevators on the far wall. They passed a line of several wizards who were all waiting to have their wands polished by a House-Elf with a strange feathered contraption. The doors of an elevator opened to reveal a Goblin bellboy, who looked very displeased at the sight of Ms. Goldstein.

"Hey Goldstein." The Goblin said.

"Hey Red." Goldstein said in return as she pushed her captives inside. "Major Investigation Department."

"I thought you was-" The Goblin began, but Goldstein cut him off quite impatiently.

" _Major Investigation Department._ " Goldstein said again. "I got a Section 3A."

Red used a long clawed stuck to reach an elevator button above his head. The elevator began its descent.

Upon reaching the Major Investigation Department, Ms. Goldstein pulled them out of the elevator, although Claire looked as though she wanted to stay and interview the Goblin and do a few sketches.

"The International Confederation is threatening to send a delegation. They think this is related to Grindelwald's attacks in Europe." A woman's strong and charismatic voice rang out through the department.

"I was there. This is a beast. No human could do what this thing is capable of, Madam President." A man's voice replied, assigning the first voice to a person, and a powerful one at that.

"Whatever it is, one thing's clear – it must be stopped. Its terrorizing No-Majs and when No-Majs are afraid, they attack. This could mean exposure. It could mean war." The President declared to the mass of people listening. All through the conversation, Ms. Goldstein and her captives had been making their way closer to the group of investigators, but their footsteps were making a remarkable amount of noise on the marble flooring, and drew the attention of the group. It was obvious that the President was containing her anger at Ms. Goldstein's interruption.

"I made your position here quite clear, Miss Goldstein." The President said. Ms. Goldstein suddenly looked frightened.

"Yes Madam President, but I-"

"You are no longer an Auror." The President said to the woman.

"No Madam President but-"

"Goldstein," The President said warningly.

"There's been a minor incident-" Goldstein tried to explain.

"Well, this office is currently concerned with very major incidents. Get out." The President finally snapped. Goldstein looked down at her feet in humiliation.

"Yes ma'am." She said as she pushed a bemused looking Newt and a smug looking Claire back towards the elevators and away from the investigators. The man who had been speaking with the President was the only one who outwardly displayed any sort of sympathy.

Goldstein practically forced the pair of foreigners into the elevator and snapped at Red to take them to her office. The Goblin obeyed and the elevator descended rapidly towards the basement.

The doors opened moments later to a cramped, windowless basement in a painful contrast to the previous floor. It was clearly the place where people with no hope of promotion worked. Ms. Goldstein led Newt and Claire past hundreds of charmed typewriters, and glass transport tubes. Each time one of the typewriters finished a note or form; it would fold itself into an origami rat and climb into the proper tube to be delivered. Occasionally the rats would collide and fight, being ripped to shreds.

Goldstein led them to a dingy corner, marked by a low-hanging sign marking it as the _Wand Permit Office_. Newt had to duck under the sign.

The office was barely larger than a cupboard, and was filled with unopened applications. Goldstein stopped behind her desk, removing her coat and hat and attempting to look professional, despite her earlier humiliation.

"So, you got your wand permit? All foreigners have to have them in New York." Goldstein said, sorting through her piles of applications.

"We mail'd our applications weeks ago." Claire lied, daring Goldstein to call her out on it. The woman had sat down behind her desk and began scribbling on a clipboard.

"Scamander . . ." She mumbled. "You were just in Equatorial New Guinea? And Ireland?"

"I've just completed a year in the field. I'm writing a book about magical creatures. I met Miss Evans during my travels through Europe and asked her to accompany me as the illustrator." Newt said, looking on as two of the origami rats were ripped to shreds.

"Like an extermination guide?" Ms. Goldstein asked, looking up from her clipboard.

"No, a guide to help people understand why we should be protecting them instead of killing them." Newt said sadly, as though he had expected more from the woman who had practically kidnapped them.

"GOLDSTEIN! Where is she? Where is she? GOLDSTEIN!" A make voice sounded through the basement. The woman ducked behind her desk, which amused the others greatly.

A pompous businessman entered the office, immediately knowing where Goldstein had hidden herself.

"Goldstein!" The businessman snapped at the desk. Looking guilty, the woman slowly poked her head into sight.

"Did you just butt in on the Investigative Team again?" The man asked, knowing the answer. The woman tried to defend herself, but before she could even start, the man interrupted her.

"Where have you been?" he asked.

"What?" The woman asked awkwardly. Newt and Claire watched the encounter as though studying the behaviours of a new species, with a mixture of scientific curiosity and amusement.

"Where did she pick you up?" The man asked Newt.

"Me?" He asked, gesturing to himself. He quickly looked to Claire and Ms. Goldstein, who shook her head in desperation. Newt stalled, coming to a non-verbal agreement with the woman, annoying Claire. If the man had asked Claire, she probably would have sold the woman out in less than five seconds.

"Have you been tracking the Second Salemers again?"

"Of course not sir." Goldstein lied. The man who had shown sympathy to Goldstein up in the Major Investigations Department suddenly made his way around the corner, his footsteps masked by the conversation and the typewriters.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Graves sir." The business man said, sucking up.

"Afternoon ah – Abernathy." Graves greeted. Ms. Goldstein stepped forward to greet Mr. Graves properly, and immediately gestured to the two foreigners.

"Mr. Graves sir, this is Mr. Scamander and Miss Evans. He has a crazy creature in his case and it got out and caused mayhem in a bank sir." She immediately ratted them out. Claire glared viciously at the woman, making all but Newt flinch.

"Let's see the little guy." Graves said, gesturing to the case. Goldstein sighed a breath of relief, and Newt had a very different reaction. If it had simply been the Niffler in his case he wouldn't be overly worried, but knowing that the rest of his creatures could be discovered terrified both him and Claire.

Goldstein theatrically placed the case onto a table and flipped the lid back, looking aghast at the contents. Everyone looked into the case, only to see it full of various pastries. Newt and Claire's faces shared identical looks of horror, and Graves simply smirked, after he got over his confusion.

"Tina . . ." The man said sadly before walking away. Newt, Claire and Tina could do nothing but stare at each other.


	4. Secondary Wands and Squibs

**Chapter 4: Secondary Wands and Squibs**

With no evidence to support her claims, Tina was forced to release Newt and Claire back into the streets of New York. She had insisted on taking them to the magical shopping district, which was located directly under Fifth Avenue.

"Oi don't understan' why we canny walk 'raun withoyt 'er supervision." Claire whispered to Newt as Claire led them to a subway exit that had been marked off as 'under construction'.

"I believe that she thinks we are going to try and let out more creatures." Newt whispered, slightly louder. Tina was leaving them enough space to give them the illusion of being free to go, but they knew that the moment they attempted to take off, she would reach over and grab onto them.

"I'm just doing my job, Mr. Scamander." Tina said, near tears.

"Yer job is ter 'an' oyt wan' permits." Claire said as Tina led them past the construction site and into the portal to the magical shopping district.

"Just get whatever you need. Where is your hotel?" Tina said, composing herself slightly.

"In the Lower East Side, by the Williamsburg Bridge." Newt said, taking Claire's arm and leading her away from Tina and towards the New York Magical Library. It was large enough that they could easily loose Ms. Goldstein. They were immediately separated in the bustle of the library, so Newt and Claire were able to slip out and head to both Gringotts and the local wand shop. Newt pulled some money out of his family's account, and then brought Claire to the district's wand-maker.

"Good afternoon sir. How may I be of assistance?" The man asked. He was an elderly man, probably in his nineties but as healthy as a horse.

"Good afternoon. I need a secondary wand, and would like a magical scan done on my companion." Newt said, his accent a stark contrast to the New Yorker's.

"Of course, sir. May I see your current wand?" he asked, holding out his hands. Newt passed his wand over without question, separating himself from Claire slightly so that when the wand-maker performed his scan his presence wouldn't interfere.

"Hum . . . fourteen inches, ash and lime woods with fairy bone and Mediterranean seashell as focusing mediums and a unicorn hair as a core. A very interesting combination," The wand-maker said, looking at the wand with curiosity. "Yes, I believe I have just the wand for you." The man said, handing the wand back to Newt and walking off to the back of the shop.

"Why do oi 'av ter git scann'd fer magic?" Claire asked once the man was out of earshot.

"Because Hogwarts can only accept a certain number of Muggleborns every year. There is a possibility – though infinitely small – that you are Muggleborn and simply uneducated in how to control your magic." Newt explained, examining some of the fingerprints left on his wand.

"'Ill it change anythin' if oi don't 'av magic?" Claire asked.

"Well, if anyone finds out that I told you about magic, you will be obliviated and I will go to Azkaban."

"Azkaban?"

"The wizarding prison. It is on an island in the North Sea."

"Here we are sir." The wand-maker said as he came back. He had heard the conversation, and he was absolutely shocked that this British man was allowed to be anywhere near the Irish No-Maj.

"This wand is made from hornbeam, with a Dragon heartstring core." The wand-maker explained, taking a closer look at the No-Maj woman as the wizard examined his secondary wand. He had never seen a No-Maj before, as he lived in an all-magic neighbourhood and had never found a reason to leave the magical world.

Newt felt a familiar warmth in his hand the moment he took the wand, but he didn't feel as though he had bonded with it. "I don't think this one will work." Newt said sadly, passing the wand back to the man. He looked shocked, but composed himself quickly and placed the wand in its box.

"Now, for your companion's scan, may I ask why she needs it?" The man asked.

"Can yer keep a secret?" Claire asked.

"Of course my dear; wand-makers are bound by a code of ethics very similar to that of a healer or No-Maj doctor."

"We don't know whether she has any magic or not. She was not accepted into a magical school but muggle-repelling charms don't work on her. We were at the ministry earlier and she was able to enter without setting off the muggle detection charm." Newt explained, setting the wand down next to the cash register.

"Interesting," The man said, studying Claire in a way that made her feel as though he was looking at her soul. She had absolutely no idea that it was in fact what he was doing.

" _Potestatem Revelio,_ " The wand-maker said, casting the spell at the No-Maj woman. He waited for the parchment to come out of his wand with the result. There were variations of the spell which would use coloured light to show how much power a particular person had, but when looking for magic itself, this particular scan was preferable.

Claire watched in fascination as the man performed the scan. She could see and feel the power he wielded as if the magic was being channeled through her rather than the wand.

The parchment came out of the tip of the wand-maker's wand and floated in the air above him. He placed his wand in a holster on his forearm.

"According to the scan, your mother was a squib born into the Malfoy family. Your father is a No-Maj, and for some reason, the scan shows that you are a squib rather than a No-Maj. That would be why you didn't set off the No-Maj repelling charms at MACUSA." The man said, reading the sheet of parchment. Newt looked to Claire in shock. She was related to one of the fastest influentially growing Houses in all of the United Kingdom.

"So oi'm not a muggle?"

"No, you are essentially the opposite of a Muggleborn, so we will have to be careful around Ms. Goldstein." Newt explained.

"Ms. Goldstein? Miss Tina Goldstein? The ex-auror?" The wand-maker asked. "What are you doing talking to her? She isn't an auror anymore, so you can't get in any trouble from her." The wand-maker pointed out.

"We didn't nu dat whaen she dragg'd us ter de MACUSA 'eadquarters." Claire said, grinning from ear to ear despite the conversation. She was related to someone with magic! It was enough of a tie that Newt wouldn't have to worry about the Statute of Secrecy.

"Ah, she probably got you for a 3A, thinking you were a No-Maj." Newt and Claire both nodded, not mentioning that Tina had taken them in over a different Muggle.

"Well then sir; let's get you that second wand." The wand-maker said as he took the tape out of his vest pocket and tossed it over. About half way over, the measuring tape's spells took over and it began measuring him in various places. Along his dominant arm, from shoulder to elbow, from elbow to the tip of his middle finger, from his heel to his knee, around his head and between his eyes. Both Claire and Newt wondered if the strange measurements were even required to find a wand, but after the tape finished its job, the wand-maker nodded and went off to the second floor of his shop. He once again pulled out his wand and used it to summon various wand boxes from their well-organized shelves. Newt couldn't help but compare the American wand shop to Ollivander's in London. The English shop was old, disorganized and full of dust, so Newt decided that if he ever needed to get something wand-related he would get an International Floo licence and come to Fifth Avenue.

"Let's see here, hawthorn and dragon heartstring. 10 ½ inches and reasonably supple." The wand-maker said, passing the wand over to Newt. He held it, but nothing happened. He gave it a quick wave, but all it did was hiss.

"No, not that one." The man said as he took the wand back and handed her another. "11 inches, yew with a unicorn hair." He said. This time, Newt was able to produce a couple of sparks, but the man snatched the wand back.

"No, definitely not. Try this one, 9 inches of mahogany with a dragon heartstring core."

"Don't worry son, I didn't like that chair anyways. Perhaps holly and Veela hair, 14 inches."

"We're getting closer, perhaps a dual core with Veela hair as one of the cores. Try this wand, its ash wood with a hippogriff talon and Veela hair."

"No, that won't do. I wonder . . ." The man said, wandering off again, floating all the rejected wands as well as the untried wands away from him and back up to the second floor, disappearing from sight.

"Here we are," The wand-maker said, bringing over what was probably the only dusty wand box in the whole shop.

"Rowan wood, 13 inches, reasonably supple, dual core of Veela hair and Phoenix feather. Far more sentient than my other wands, and more temperamental due to the cores. Give it a try."

Newt took the wand in his hand and felt a comforting warmth coming from the wood, being heated from the inside out. He gave it a small wave, and it cleaned the shop and repaired all the damage the other wands had caused.

"Wonderful my son, this wand has bonded with you. A good thing too, as I was worried I would never find the right wizard for that wand." The man said, leading the two foreigners over to the cash register.

"Can I get two holsters like yours?" Newt asked, pulling out his coin purse.

"Of course. Your wand and holster will be a total of 13 galleons." He handed over the money and gave both the spare wand and holster to Claire, who put them on under her pale yellow overcoat.

"Can we go back ter de library ter git sum spell books?" Claire asked as they walked around. She stood out like a sore thumb with her outfit, but she was too busy looking around to care.

"We can see what they have, but I have all of my old Hogwarts text books in my trunk, if you want to look at them" Newt said as they re-entered the library.

"We 'av ter git yer case back from Mr. Kowalski first," Claire pointed out as they made their way out of the main study area and into the maze of bookshelves.

Within walking for five minutes around the magical creatures section, Tina Goldstein found them.

"Nigh, if yer done lookin' raun, we 'av a muggle an' a case ter fend." Claire said to Tina, as though it was her who had run off. Tina glared at Claire. She knew that the woman was probably a very nice person who was just in a bad mood because of the bank chase, the MACUSA embarrassment and the general stress of being in a city as large as New York for the first time, but Tina couldn't help but dislike Miss Evans. Mr. Scamander was just plain annoying.

Tina had led the two foreigners towards the lower east side, where they claimed their hotel was. Above their heads, a small blue creature with wings like a helicopter on its head – a Billywig – was buzzing around, looking for food and company. Both Newt and Claire looked nervous, as they knew that the Billywig had to have escaped from Newt's case.

"What was that?" Tina asked suspiciously.

"Er . . . moth, I think. Big moth." Newt said. Tina didn't believe his explanation, but didn't call him out on it as they rounded a corner and saw a crowd of people gathered in front of a crumbling building. People were hurriedly shouting and police officers were evacuating the building. Newt and Claire looked at the damage done and knew exactly what had happened, the Muggle opened the case. One of the police officers was standing in the middle of the crowd, trying to interview the building's tenants. The trio tried to get into the crowd while a tipsy hobo tried to get the police officer's attention.

"Hey . . ." The police officer said, trying to calm the crowd. "Hey – quiet down – I'm trying to get a statement."

A random blonde housewife brushed herself off a bit and squared her shoulder. "I'm telling you it's a gas explosion again, and I ain't taking the kids back up there until its safe."

"Sorry ma'am –" The police officer said. "There ain't no smell of gas."

"It warn't gas – hey, officer, I seen it! – it wuzza – a gigantic – a huge hippopotto-" The drunken hobo proclaimed. Tina and Claire both looked up to the ruined building, missing Newt as he cast a simple _confundus_ on the man and the people around him.

"-gas. It was gas." The drunken man suddenly changed his mind. The crowd once again began shouting at the police officer about a gas explosion. Tina one again caught sight of the Billywig and began studying it, trying to figure out what it was and if it was something that she should be worried about. Newt took advantage of Tina's distraction and grabbed Claire's arm, dragging her off towards the building, up the metal steps and into the ruined building. The damage seemed to be coming from one particular room, where the entire support wall had been destroyed from the inside out. Newt and Claire entered the damaged room, taking in the various footprints. Some were human and some belonged to the animals that Newt and Claire knew had escaped from the suitcase. There were broken shards of wood from furniture as well as glass. Claire could hear groaning coming from the corner of the room, so she immediately rushed to Mr. Kowalski's side. The man was lying on his back with his eyes closed and sweat forming on his brow. She examined the parts of the man that were uncovered, and found a bit on his neck. She tried to examine the red bite mark, but the man kept unconsciously batting her away.

"Mr. Scamander!" The two foreigners heard Tina yell up the stairs. Newt desperately cast a repairing charm. The damaged materials flew back together, fixing themselves just in time for Tina to enter and see nothing wrong. Newt was sitting calmly on the bed, casually closing the latches on his suitcase while Claire sat down next to the Muggle, casually examining his neck, as though he had gotten hurt during the building's destruction.

"It was _open_?" Tina demanded; panic making its way into her voice.

"Just a smidge," Newt said casually.

"That crazy Niffler thing's on the loose again?" Tina asked, panic taking over.

"Er – it might be –"

"Then look for it! Look!" Tina said frantically. She was about to begin searching for the Niffler under the bed when Mr. Kowalski moaned. Claire nearly groaned when she heard Tina panic even more. She dropped the case full of pastries – which Claire and Newt had forgotten about – and made her way over to Mr. Kowalski.

"His neck's bleeding, he's hurt! Wake up, Mr. No-Maj . . ." Tina said, shaking the man's shoulder. With Tina distracted, Claire and Newt both got up and made for the door, but an ear piercing scream made them whip out their wands and spin towards the source of the scream. A Murtlap had come running out from under a cabinet and latched itself onto Tina's arm. Claire tried to catch the creature by its tail, but couldn't get a grip on the creature, since Tina was flailing around trying to shake it off.

Newt couldn't decide what to do. He didn't want to dive into the scuffle, and risk hurting the Murtlap or one of the girls, but he had to do something, since it was _his_ Murtlap.

" _Petrificus totalus!_ " He decided, shouting the incantation to warn Claire that the spell was coming in her direction. The beam of light rushed from the tip of his wand and hit the Murtlap dead on, freezing it. Both Claire and Tina looked to her in shock. Tina's expression changed to one of annoyance. Just when she thought she had the man figured out, he went and did something unexpected – such as shooting a spell at two women trying to contain a dangerous magical creature.

"Tanks Newt," Claire said as she dropped the Murtlap in the man's case.

"Mercy Lewis, what is that?" Tina asked, rubbing her arm.

"Nothing to worry about, it's just a Murtlap." Newt said as he watched Claire turn her attention to the bite mark on Mr. Kowalski's neck. The man had opened his eyes, not that Newt or Tina noticed.

"What else have you got in there?" Tina demanded.

"You!" Mr. Kowalski yelled as he recognised Claire.

"Hello." Newt said somewhat dismissively.

"Easy mister . . ." Claire said, trailing off so he could introduce himself properly.

"Kowalski . . . Jacob," The man said, taking Tina's outstretched hand and shaking it. Newt took out his wand and pointed it at Jacob, intending to heal and Obliviate the man.

"You can't Obliviate him! We need him as a witness," Tina said, standing protectively in front of the Muggle.

"Yer mean yer nade 'im as a witness against us." Claire pointed out. Newt nodded in agreement.

"I'm sorry; you just yelled at me the length of New York for not doing it in the first place." Newt added to Claire's line of thought.

"He looks hurt, he's ill." Tina said, fussing over the Muggle.

"He'll be fine, Murtlap bites aren't serious." Newt said, putting his wand away while Jacob threw up in a corner. Tina looked at Newt in disbelief.

"I'll admit that is a slightly more severe reaction than I've seen but if it was really serious – he'd have . . ." Newt said sheepishly, but Tina cut him off.

"What?"

"Well de firs' symptom wud be flames oyt av 'is anus." Claire said with a straight face. Terrified, Jacob felt the seat of his pants.

"This is balled up!" Tina said to the two foreigners.

"It'll last 48 hours at the most! I can keep him if you want me to –" Newt began, but Tina seemed fond of interrupting him.

"Oh, keep him? Mr. Scamander we don't keep them! Do you know anything about the Wizarding community in America?" Tina asked with anger laced into her voice.

"I do know a few things actually. I know you have rather backwards laws about relations with non-magic people. That you're not meant to befriend them, that you can't marry them, which seems mildly absurd to me." Newt said, watching Jacob's jaw drop in shock.

"Who's gonna marry him? You're both coming with me –" Tina began, but Claire took great pleasure in cutting her off, giving her a taste of her own medicine.

"Oi don't see why we nade ter cum witcha –" Claire began as Tina tried to help Jacob to his feet.

"Help me!" Tina ordered. Newt felt obliged to help, since it was his creature that had bitten the man.

"I'm . . . I'm dreaming, right? Yeah, I'm tired. I never went to the bank. This is all just some big nightmare, right?" Jacob asked, his voice strained and panicked.

"For the both of us Mr. Kowalski," Tina said as Claire grabbed onto Newt so that they could Disapparate. Just as the world distorted itself around the travellers, Claire caught sight of the Niffler in a hole behind a picture of an elderly woman that had fallen from the wall.


End file.
